Apologies to everyone I saw back in London last week, who have already heard this story straight from my angry little mouth. However, it's a tale so distressing that it just cries out to be written down...
One of the (many) moderately bizarre things about life in L.A. is the way that the whole city seems to be one giant pick-up joint. In some ways this must be great for single people, as one gets asked out on dates and dinners about a thousand times more than in England. On the other hand, it's rather disconcerting that you end up fending off men when you've just popped down to the supermarket to buy a pint of milk. I thought this might just be an L.A. phenomenom, but I have recently received confirmation that Americans from all over the country are shocked, when visiting England, to discover that no-one dresses up to go to the supermarket. To be honest, I'm kind of glad that I'm not single here. The idea of putting on makeup and nice clothes every time you leave the house 'just in case' seems rather exhausting.
Anyway, a few weeks ago, I'd gone down to the local Ralphs (think Tescos but with all the products arranged in really counter-intuitive groupings [why on earth would anyone group vinegar in with soups rather than, say, salad dressings or condiments?]) wearing my clearly totally-inappropriate-to-grocery-shopping-in-America jeans, sweatshirt and un-made-up face. I was hoping that this would mean I could do my shopping free from male hassle. I thought I'd succeeded but, no, standing in the check-out queue I found myself accosted by a man whose appearence epitomised every stereotype one could possibly have about Californian surfer-dudes. He chats to me about the contents of my basket, and I respond with the sort of bland smalltalk that seems appropriate. I happen to mention that I've only just moved here. He replies that I must be finding life here pretty different to China.
China? I respond. What's China got to do with anything? He looks confused at this, and says that well, seeing as I'm Chinese I must find America pretty confusing. I honestly don't know how to respond to this. As far as I'm aware I neither look Chinese, or speak with anything resembling a Chinese accent (and it worries me slightly that it clearly sounds to Americans as if English is my second language). Not wanting to get involved in some ridiculous debate while trying to pay for my shopping, I decide to simply smile and tell him that no, actually I'm English. To this he nods and says "well, I was close, wasn't I? After all, England and China are next to each other".
No surfer-dude man, no they're not. I don't know which shocks me more - the level of geographical ignorance, or the fact that this man (who, btw, appears to be in his late-20s, not 16 or anything) appears to show absoloutely no shame or embarassment when I explain to him that these two places are in entirely different continents.
I'm not a genius. I freely admit that there's an awful lot of stuff that I don't know, particularly with regard to U.S. history and geography. But (and in my mind this is a big but), if I get something hideously wrong and someone corrects me, I show at least some interest in finding out the real answer. This guy was completely unbothered by his ignorance.
Maybe I'm an insufferable intellectual snob. Clearly if I ever want to fit in here I'm going to have to get over this and embrace self-belief as more important than intellectual acumen. The cardinal social rule here seems to be to never criticise anything, and always agree with everything everyone ever says, even if you know them to be wrong (the correct form for coping with such wrongness is apparently to just go home and bitch about it afterwards, thus sparing the feelings of the person in question). It's just so hard when I've lived my whole life thinking that the pursuit of knowledge is more important than hurting someone's feelings a little bit. Am I right or wrong readers? Opinions gladly taken (even [nay, especially] those that differ from my own).
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Monday, March 19, 2007
The Power of Positive Thinking
So I'm back in L.A. after a glorious four days in England, that served to confirm just how much I miss the motherland. I always know how much I miss my family and friends, how self-centered I find a lot of people here, but I forget how truly inspiring it is to live in a city as beautiful as London. And, yes, London is beautiful in its chaos*, and one doesn't even really notice it until one is transplanted to a city** where everything is modern and organised and washed out and grey - and just plain same-y. (Sorry, it appears that eloquence is evading me today - I think I'll blame it on the jetlag.)
It was lovely to see so many friends, although a little heart-breaking that by the end I was fitting people into half-hour timeslots. Four days is not enough. Of course, everyone asked me how I was finding life in America, and I found that the tone of my answer tended to depend mainly on proximity to the husband. Much as I may moan and bitch about life in the land of the free and the home of the brave, having to try to find positive things to say about my adopted homeland in front of Scott did make me realise that there are - genuinely - some things that the U.S.A. does a lot better than in England. As you will see, these are important US achievements that more than make up for the lack of a free healthcare system and such.
Here, in no particular order, are the top 5 ways that living in the US is better than the UK.
5 - Walk-in closets in every bedroom. A teenage fantasy come to life, taking the pain out of outfit selection.
4 - "Two-buck chuck". A bottle of wine for the equivalent of a pound. I was initally reticent to try this, as it seemed impossible that a company could actually produce wine this cheaply - surely it costs that much for the bottle?!? Surprisingly non-disgusting. Not great but, you know, drinkable.
3 - Butter. Not the product itself, which is much the same, but the fact that inside the initial wrapper the creamy goodness is sub-divided into wrapped strips. These strips are printed with a measuring chart, which tells you where to cut for different weights and measurements. I realise this is of limited excitment to those who don't bake, but I was amazed! My mother informs me that British butter used to come the same way - why on earth has this been stopped?
2 - Edible fast-food. Don't get too excited, all the usual fast-food hellholes still rule the roost. However, there are also a proliferation of mexican fast-food places (Baja Fresh etc...) that are both scrummy and cheap. Probably score better on the global deforestation and exploitation of workers front too.
1 - Liquor store delivery service. I remember being involved in a long conversation back in the uni days about how great it would be if after the local shop had closed/it was cold, one could order takeaway wine and cigarettes. People, I am pleased to report that the shopkeepers of America listened to this plea and, for the princely sum of a dollar, the local liquor store will deliver whatever you want to your door - 24 hours a day. I'm still too embarrased to actually use this service, although the girls downstairs tell me I will get over this. They're now trying to get over the fact that the store now recognises their number when they call up, and asks whether they'll be wanting the wine or vodka tonight.
There you go. There's also the cheap cosmetics and the sunshine, but they seem a little too boring to list. Will update on further good things as I discover them. Maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be able to think of more good things than bad...
*Yes, I'm aware that its sounds wrong here. I have a vague feeling that cities are probably feminine, or is that just boats? Is there some kind of gender rule here, or does it depend on the city in question?
**I am still loath to describe Los Angeles as a city. Yes, it's a big, but in my mind true city-status requires some sort of central downtown area and people wandering around (sitting in cars doesn't count, even if you are mainly in traffic jams). It also requires some sense of unique character and charm. There is little about Los Angeles that one could describe as charming. Unless you get turned on by freeways and car wrecks (and if a David Cronenberg movie says you can, then it must be possible). In character and architecture L.A. is nothing more than a giant suburb.
It was lovely to see so many friends, although a little heart-breaking that by the end I was fitting people into half-hour timeslots. Four days is not enough. Of course, everyone asked me how I was finding life in America, and I found that the tone of my answer tended to depend mainly on proximity to the husband. Much as I may moan and bitch about life in the land of the free and the home of the brave, having to try to find positive things to say about my adopted homeland in front of Scott did make me realise that there are - genuinely - some things that the U.S.A. does a lot better than in England. As you will see, these are important US achievements that more than make up for the lack of a free healthcare system and such.
Here, in no particular order, are the top 5 ways that living in the US is better than the UK.
5 - Walk-in closets in every bedroom. A teenage fantasy come to life, taking the pain out of outfit selection.
4 - "Two-buck chuck". A bottle of wine for the equivalent of a pound. I was initally reticent to try this, as it seemed impossible that a company could actually produce wine this cheaply - surely it costs that much for the bottle?!? Surprisingly non-disgusting. Not great but, you know, drinkable.
3 - Butter. Not the product itself, which is much the same, but the fact that inside the initial wrapper the creamy goodness is sub-divided into wrapped strips. These strips are printed with a measuring chart, which tells you where to cut for different weights and measurements. I realise this is of limited excitment to those who don't bake, but I was amazed! My mother informs me that British butter used to come the same way - why on earth has this been stopped?
2 - Edible fast-food. Don't get too excited, all the usual fast-food hellholes still rule the roost. However, there are also a proliferation of mexican fast-food places (Baja Fresh etc...) that are both scrummy and cheap. Probably score better on the global deforestation and exploitation of workers front too.
1 - Liquor store delivery service. I remember being involved in a long conversation back in the uni days about how great it would be if after the local shop had closed/it was cold, one could order takeaway wine and cigarettes. People, I am pleased to report that the shopkeepers of America listened to this plea and, for the princely sum of a dollar, the local liquor store will deliver whatever you want to your door - 24 hours a day. I'm still too embarrased to actually use this service, although the girls downstairs tell me I will get over this. They're now trying to get over the fact that the store now recognises their number when they call up, and asks whether they'll be wanting the wine or vodka tonight.
There you go. There's also the cheap cosmetics and the sunshine, but they seem a little too boring to list. Will update on further good things as I discover them. Maybe, just maybe, one day I'll be able to think of more good things than bad...
*Yes, I'm aware that its sounds wrong here. I have a vague feeling that cities are probably feminine, or is that just boats? Is there some kind of gender rule here, or does it depend on the city in question?
**I am still loath to describe Los Angeles as a city. Yes, it's a big, but in my mind true city-status requires some sort of central downtown area and people wandering around (sitting in cars doesn't count, even if you are mainly in traffic jams). It also requires some sense of unique character and charm. There is little about Los Angeles that one could describe as charming. Unless you get turned on by freeways and car wrecks (and if a David Cronenberg movie says you can, then it must be possible). In character and architecture L.A. is nothing more than a giant suburb.
Monday, February 19, 2007
Almost Happy
Why is it that I seem unable to write entries in this for weeks at a time and then, when i do write something, realize that I do have stuff to say, and have to write multiple entries.
Anyway, I realize that I may have seemed rather miserable in my last spate of entries. This is because I was rather miserable. However, day by day, almost so imperceptibly that I don't notice it happening, I seem to hate it here less. Right now I've reached the stage of almost liking it. Bizarre.
Anyway, here are the good things:
1 - Have met some nice people. Actually feel like there's someone here now who I could describe as a proper friend. We sit on the porch in the evening drinking wine, smoking cigarettes, and watching the crazy folks of Hollywood Blvd pass us by. It's like being back in London. Only warmer.
2 - Despite still being unable to work for actual money (come on work permit), I've been doing some interny-type script-reading stuff to fill the time. Which I'm actually finding interesting. I'm also working on producing a documentary with Scott. It's an investigation into the reasons why so many amusement parks are closing around America. Actually pretty interesting. Scott's provided the initial idea, I'm structuring the brainstorms into something that resembles a cohesive thesis. Also doing the research and production organisation. He is also going to do all the on-camera interviewing stuff, which he loves and which scares me senseless. It's great when you have someone there to cover your weak spots!
3 - I'm just about to book tickets to come back to London for a week in March to attend the wedding of an old friend! Would love to meet up with anyone who is around then.
Good things do happen in threes.
Anyway, I realize that I may have seemed rather miserable in my last spate of entries. This is because I was rather miserable. However, day by day, almost so imperceptibly that I don't notice it happening, I seem to hate it here less. Right now I've reached the stage of almost liking it. Bizarre.
Anyway, here are the good things:
1 - Have met some nice people. Actually feel like there's someone here now who I could describe as a proper friend. We sit on the porch in the evening drinking wine, smoking cigarettes, and watching the crazy folks of Hollywood Blvd pass us by. It's like being back in London. Only warmer.
2 - Despite still being unable to work for actual money (come on work permit), I've been doing some interny-type script-reading stuff to fill the time. Which I'm actually finding interesting. I'm also working on producing a documentary with Scott. It's an investigation into the reasons why so many amusement parks are closing around America. Actually pretty interesting. Scott's provided the initial idea, I'm structuring the brainstorms into something that resembles a cohesive thesis. Also doing the research and production organisation. He is also going to do all the on-camera interviewing stuff, which he loves and which scares me senseless. It's great when you have someone there to cover your weak spots!
3 - I'm just about to book tickets to come back to London for a week in March to attend the wedding of an old friend! Would love to meet up with anyone who is around then.
Good things do happen in threes.
Escape from L.A.
Have just got back from a weekend in San Francisco, where a film Scott worked on was showing at the SF indiefest. I had mixed feelings about attending this event. On the plus side, I love San Franciso, and it would be fun to get out of L.A. for a few days. On the minus side, it involved spending a concentrated amount of time with a group of people who haven't been particularly friendly towards me. When Scott announced that he'd got work in Denver for a week immediatly following the festival I decided to go, so I could actually spend a bit of time with my husband.
It turned out that I made the right decision, and had a wonderful weekend. Stayed with some of Scott's friends who live in the Tenderloin, who were the loveliest hosts one could wish for. Made friends with a girl who was showing a documentary she had made about South Afrikan women in hip hop. It was educational, and we had a lot of fun hanging out. As for the friends who I don't like...well, I managed to not spend too much time with them. Cameron (the one from this crowd who I actually really like) got immensely drunk and melancholic, and I volunteered to look after him. Although this sounds like a bit of a chore, there's a weird part of me that feels better about myself when i'm looking after someone. Or maybe it's just that looking after a drunk boy made me feel like I was back at home. Who knows? Did have to go for lunch with those I did not like. It was awkward, but I think I made noises in all the required places. Although I had to restrain myself when someone was confused by the word jettison. And when they didn't realize that Alcatraz was no longer functioning. And when it took 20 minutes (no joke) to divide the restaurant bill. Must stop myself being such a snobby bitch. It's just not the done thing here.
San Francisco is good for the soul. Maybe I just needed to be back in a proper city for a while. Walking down streets full of crowds of people, with life and dreams and stories at every turn, is something that I'd learnt to take for granted. Too often L.A. feels like a ghost city, with empty streets and lines of cars driving off into very private futures. Weird that a town famous for storytelling seems so void of emotion.
It turned out that I made the right decision, and had a wonderful weekend. Stayed with some of Scott's friends who live in the Tenderloin, who were the loveliest hosts one could wish for. Made friends with a girl who was showing a documentary she had made about South Afrikan women in hip hop. It was educational, and we had a lot of fun hanging out. As for the friends who I don't like...well, I managed to not spend too much time with them. Cameron (the one from this crowd who I actually really like) got immensely drunk and melancholic, and I volunteered to look after him. Although this sounds like a bit of a chore, there's a weird part of me that feels better about myself when i'm looking after someone. Or maybe it's just that looking after a drunk boy made me feel like I was back at home. Who knows? Did have to go for lunch with those I did not like. It was awkward, but I think I made noises in all the required places. Although I had to restrain myself when someone was confused by the word jettison. And when they didn't realize that Alcatraz was no longer functioning. And when it took 20 minutes (no joke) to divide the restaurant bill. Must stop myself being such a snobby bitch. It's just not the done thing here.
San Francisco is good for the soul. Maybe I just needed to be back in a proper city for a while. Walking down streets full of crowds of people, with life and dreams and stories at every turn, is something that I'd learnt to take for granted. Too often L.A. feels like a ghost city, with empty streets and lines of cars driving off into very private futures. Weird that a town famous for storytelling seems so void of emotion.
What's in a name
People in LA have strange names. I'm presuming that this is more a sign of "creative" people moving to L.A. rather than a random geographic anomoly.
For example, last week I met a frind of Scott's who is named Shoe. This is weird enough in itself, but even more bizarre when you factor in that I have already met another friend of Scott's who is called Boot. These two people do not know each other.
A few weeks ago I went to an advance preview of the film 300 (knowing comic geek boys has advantages) with, among other, a man who had legally changed his name to Just A Name. He seemed completely normal.
And the biggest joke of all is that 99% of people I meet here tell me what a weird name I have...
For example, last week I met a frind of Scott's who is named Shoe. This is weird enough in itself, but even more bizarre when you factor in that I have already met another friend of Scott's who is called Boot. These two people do not know each other.
A few weeks ago I went to an advance preview of the film 300 (knowing comic geek boys has advantages) with, among other, a man who had legally changed his name to Just A Name. He seemed completely normal.
And the biggest joke of all is that 99% of people I meet here tell me what a weird name I have...
Thursday, February 1, 2007
Quote of the Week
Or technically of last week, in San Diego. While Scott taught people how to do clever things on computers, I partook in a little sight-seeing. One of the places I visited was Old Town - the first Western settlement in California - and overheard the following statement from a local man showing some tourists around
"It's called Old Town because it's an old town".
No sarcastic twinge, no further explanation. God bless America.
"It's called Old Town because it's an old town".
No sarcastic twinge, no further explanation. God bless America.
Adjustment
I wish I could say that the reason I haven't posted in the last few weeks is because I've been so terribly busy, but this would be a rather large lie. To tell the truth, I have mainly been wallowing in misery. There are a lot of things that frustrate me about life in Los Angeles, and there are a lot of ways in which I'm frustrated and ashamed at myself for not knowing how to do the simplest things here. I've travelled a lot, in far more "exotic" locales than Los Angeles, and always not only coped with, but positively enjoyed all the variances in daily life around the globe. It turns out that adjusting to living somewhere is a lot more emotionally draining than just travelling through.
Yesterday's outpouring of tears was caused by my inability to post a letter. Scott was busy, I was bored, so he asked if I could post his mail for him. This is something so ridiculously commonplace that I never even considered before the amount of knowledge one needs to carry out this simple act. My first problem came with trying to find a post office. Turns out that one goes to the UPS place, but I didn't know that. Then at the counter, I took part in the following conversation.
- Can I have some stamps to send this to England please?
- Sure, no problem. (girl takes letter and goes to frank it. pauses. returns.) Where's England?
- Um, Europe. (girl nods, and starts to look thorugh a printed list)
- No, sorry, it's not.
- Yes it is.
- No, it's not on my Europe list. (Girl passes over her book, which lists the countries of the world by region. I study it).
- Oh, it's here. United Kingdom.
- You didn't say that, you said England.
- Sorry.
And here I let the conversation end, not having the desire or energy to get involved in an argument with a stranger.
I spend a lot of time here feeling like a particularly ignorant and slow child, a burden on everyone around her. Yet at the same time, I feel ridiculously defensive. I've only just moved here! How am I supposed to learn how to do stuff if no-one takes the time to help me? It particularly annoys me that no-one here manages to say my name correctly. Fill-Eeeeee-Parrr is how I am to be known in this land. When I tried to correct someone and explain, no, that's not how you pronounce it, he became all defensive and asked me what I had against Fill-Eeee-Parrr. Nothing. I have nothing against it. I also have nothing against Susan. It's just that neither of them are my name, and there's something quietly soul-destroying about living somewhere where not only does no-one know your name, they really can't be bothered to learn it. Or even pretend to.
In positive news, Scott made me go to the chiropracter with him. I had been less than convinced by similar outings to Reiki masters and astrologers, and thought this would be more of the same. Lo and behold, it turns out that having your back "adjusted" really does take away a lot of pain. I guess sometimes being open to new experiences does pay off...
Yesterday's outpouring of tears was caused by my inability to post a letter. Scott was busy, I was bored, so he asked if I could post his mail for him. This is something so ridiculously commonplace that I never even considered before the amount of knowledge one needs to carry out this simple act. My first problem came with trying to find a post office. Turns out that one goes to the UPS place, but I didn't know that. Then at the counter, I took part in the following conversation.
- Can I have some stamps to send this to England please?
- Sure, no problem. (girl takes letter and goes to frank it. pauses. returns.) Where's England?
- Um, Europe. (girl nods, and starts to look thorugh a printed list)
- No, sorry, it's not.
- Yes it is.
- No, it's not on my Europe list. (Girl passes over her book, which lists the countries of the world by region. I study it).
- Oh, it's here. United Kingdom.
- You didn't say that, you said England.
- Sorry.
And here I let the conversation end, not having the desire or energy to get involved in an argument with a stranger.
I spend a lot of time here feeling like a particularly ignorant and slow child, a burden on everyone around her. Yet at the same time, I feel ridiculously defensive. I've only just moved here! How am I supposed to learn how to do stuff if no-one takes the time to help me? It particularly annoys me that no-one here manages to say my name correctly. Fill-Eeeeee-Parrr is how I am to be known in this land. When I tried to correct someone and explain, no, that's not how you pronounce it, he became all defensive and asked me what I had against Fill-Eeee-Parrr. Nothing. I have nothing against it. I also have nothing against Susan. It's just that neither of them are my name, and there's something quietly soul-destroying about living somewhere where not only does no-one know your name, they really can't be bothered to learn it. Or even pretend to.
In positive news, Scott made me go to the chiropracter with him. I had been less than convinced by similar outings to Reiki masters and astrologers, and thought this would be more of the same. Lo and behold, it turns out that having your back "adjusted" really does take away a lot of pain. I guess sometimes being open to new experiences does pay off...
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